


Flame and Feathers

by KitKat404, lilfinch



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: F/F, Gang AU, Jazzalil, Jemilla/Zazzalil - Freeform, Princess and Criminal, Royalty AU, Short Story, endgame smut, lots of homoerotic tension, this got way too complex way too quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2020-11-08 06:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20830547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKat404/pseuds/KitKat404, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilfinch/pseuds/lilfinch
Summary: One of the kingdom’s most prominent gangs, the Flame, is on the verge of war with their territorial enemy, the Feathers.When Zazzalil, the deputy of the Flame, in all her infinite wisdom, gets caught trying to steal paperwork from the palace, she is brought before the Princess to be questioned.However, things aren’t always as they seem, and the situation, per usual, takes a turn for the complex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yippee we love dumb criminals

Haha. Fuck.

Zazzalil kept her narrowed gaze trained on the floor as she walked, ignoring the pain shooting through her biceps as the fingers of the guards flanking her dug into her skin. 

Every time she put pressure on her left foot, a hot pain throbbed in her calf from where the first guard had stomped on it, and blood trickled down her cheek from the cut the guard had left with a punch across her jaw and an inconvenient ring.

Getting caught breaking into the princess’s room had not been the plan. 

No, the plan had been to get in, grab some papers, and get out, but Zazzalil’s dumbass had knocked over a vase the moment two guards marched past the closed door and heard. She mentally cursed herself as the guards practically dragged her down the hall, the click of the boots against the floor ringing in her ears.

“Am I going to the dungeons?” Zazzalil asked, a scowl still written across her downcast face. She got no answer. Zazzalil looked up at the guard on her left, glaring. “I asked you a question.”

The guard on her left didn’t even glance at her, instead keeping her dark gaze trained ahead, a stern frown on her face. Zazzalil sighed and dropped her head, grinding her teeth lightly. If she wanted answers she’d have to play nice.

Zazzalil closed her eyes and let a few hot tears well in their corners. She sniffed and raised her gaze to meet that of the guard on her right. He looked at her briefly, and though his gaze immediately flicked back forward, Zazzalil knew that the opportunity had opened.

“P-Please,” she whimpered, her eyes growing wide and watery and her body trembling in the guards’ tight grasps. “I just want to know what- what’s going to happen to me.” A single tear slithered from one eye and the guards face softened momentarily. He let out a small sigh.

“All those caught breaking into the castle are presented as an audience before the Queen.”

Zazzalil blinked. “A trial?”

“A questioning.”

The guard on the left threw a sharp glare at his companion, but it was too late. Zazzalil chewed on her bottom lip as her head turned back towards the ground. An audience before the Queen? Where she would have to answer questions and get the shit beaten out of her for not answering them?

Zazzalil sighed lightly. She knew she couldn’t tell the Queen anything, despite the fact that a good beating was imminent if she didn’t. She couldn’t tell the Queen about the little territory skirmish that had broken out between the two rival gangs in her slums. She couldn’t tell the Queen that the little territory skirmish had become not so little, and that her crime-riddled kingdom was on the brink of an inner war. 

She couldn’t tell the Queen that she had been rummaging around the Princess’s room for blueprints to the sewers and the city layout. 

The Flame tattoo on the back of her neck burned, and Zazzalil felt a shiver run down her spine and anger flare in her chest. Maybe an audience with the Queen would be a good thing. Maybe she could erupt, and yell at the most powerful woman in the kingdom to do fucking something, anything, to fix the slums. To bring peace between the Flame and the Feathers. 

It wouldn’t happen, of course. Too much was at stake. Far too much. Lives were at stake. A grimace set on Zazzalil’s features as her mind flicked through images of people lining the streets asking for money, of children crying silently as they got a Flame tattooed on their necks, their parents crying as they turned their backs on the same children.

Zazzalil almost didn’t notice when she was suddenly in a brighter room. Her head flicked up, and her stomach dropped. 

The Queen sat on the throne before her, a lazy air draped in majesty and glory. The mixture of chandelier and moonlight glinted against the Queen’s dark skin, and she sat with one leg crossed over the other, donning a simple red and green dress adorned with white.

In the Flame, they called her the War Master. And from the unamused, unenthused look in her onyx eyes as she glared down at Zazzalil, she looked every bit a War Master as she was rumored to be.

Zazzalil was frozen in shock. So much so that one of the guards kicked out one her knees, forcing her drop on the floor in a hard bow. 

“Y-Your Majesty,” Zazzalil said quickly, unsure of anybody had heard her. If the Queen had, then she did not acknowledge it.

“What is this?” She asked instead, sounding bored. 

The guard on her left, the asshole one, stepped forward and cleared her throat. 

“We caught her sneaking around the Princess’s room.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow and Zazzalil looked up at her. “And has she stated why?”

“No.”

“Then tell me, thief. What are your motives?” 

Zazzalil swallowed the knot in her throat. “S-Silver.”

“Speak louder.”

“Silver, Your Majesty. I was hoping to swipe a few candlesticks.”

Doubt was clear in the Queen’s features. “In the Princess’s room? You’re meaning to tell me that you scaled castle walls and broke into the Princess’s room for a candlestick?”

Fuck.

“I hadn’t known that- that it would be Her Highness’s room. I only hoped to…” Zazzalil trailed off, trying to still her trembling hands.

There was a tense silence before the Queen sighed and spoke again. “I’ve heard better stories from beggars.”

Zazzalil stiffened, her head flinging up and panic setting in chest. The only thing that ran through her head was how grateful she was that her hooded ruana covered the back of her neck. “It’s true!” She cried, “I-”

“ _ Silence _ .”

Zazzalil froze at the feeling of cold metal pressing lightly into the side of her face. She didn’t spare a look back at the guard pressing his sword against her skin, and instead her mouth snapped shut.

“Obviously something is going on here.” The Queen turned her dark gaze to the guards. “She will have an audience with my daughter. Perhaps she will have a better indication of the situation, as it was her room that was broken into.”

Zazzalil’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. An audience with the Princess? It was rare that the Princess was ever out in public, much less having audiences with criminals. She was said to be a sickly, shy girl who strayed from public eyes. Zazzalil had never even seen her face.

Nevertheless, the Queen excused herself from the throne room and left to retrieve her daughter.

“These ropes are chafing my wrists.” Zazzalil complained when the Queen was gone. There was no response from either guard. Zazzalil made to stand up, only to feel the cold edge of a sword press into her back. “At least let me stand, I won’t try anything.”

The tiredness in her voice must have shown because after a moment, the tip lifted from her back and Zazzalil struggled to her feet. She turned around, about to thank the guards, when the door suddenly opened. 

This time, Zazzalil did not need to be kicked to sink down on one knee and bow her head. Lies clouded her mind and her hands shook as the Queen’s voice sliced through the room.

“My daughter, the Princess Jemilla.”

With a small grunt of effort, Zazzalil rose. Her heart pounded viciously in her chest as she looked up. Her gaze fell upon the sight of a girl around her age dressed in a dark teal overcoat with long coattails over a white dress shirt that was tucked into black pants. Bathed in thin moonlight, the Princess almost glowed.

Zazzalil blinked in surprise as her gaze slowly trailed up to the Princess’s face. And then she froze.

That face. She’d seen that face.

That was not the face of a sickly, shy girl. That was not the face of the Princess Jemilla. It couldn’t be.

Zazzalil squinted, confusion flitting across her features. Where had she seen that face? It seemed so familiar, from the way the shadows stretched across her face from the moonlight and dim chandelier light.

Zazzalil felt like she’d been knee’d in the gut. She knew that face.

That was the face of the serious girl that had sat across the table at the last meeting between the Flame and the Feathers, her knuckles white from squeezing the edges of the table she leaned over as she yelled at the Flame leader, Ducker. 

That was the face of the enraged girl that tried to argue for peace between the Flame and the Feathers but that held a knife between her fingers anyway. 

That was the face of the girl who had grabbed Zazzalil by the front of her ruana and jerked her forward across the table when she had made a muttered comment about the true motives of the Feathers, causing every Flame and Feather member gathered to reach for their weapon.

The was the face of the girl who had stared her in the eye with focused intensity, whispered “dirty Flame,” and let her gaze drop to Zazzalil’s lips and her chin jut forward ever so slightly before she dropped Zazzalil’s ruana and leaned back with a disgusted “tsk” despite the faint redness in her cheeks.

That was the face of the girl who had shushed every gang member in the pub basement for a moment and a half, only to yell “ _ scatter _ ” as the heavy, leaden sound of an authorities footsteps stomped down the stairs.

That was the face of the girl that had stabbed a palace guard in the shoulder and used brass knuckles to punch another in the face later that night. The pub had been set on fire. Guards infested the streets, chasing after every black-clothed gang member they could find. Zazzalil had been chased for what felt like hours, and every quick duck into a new alleyway seemed to lead her in circles.

They’d cornered her.

That was the face of the girl that had snuck up behind them and saved her. The was the face of the girl that had hefted Zazzalil up, asked her if she was alright, and shoved a knife into her hands before disappearing into the damp, reeking streets. 

That was the face of Jay, the leader of the Feathers.

That was the face of the girl that would later be the one to declare war on the Flame.

Zazzalil would have bet her life that there was a tattoo of a black-tipped feather on the back of the Princess’s neck. She stared at the girl in shock, her mouth hanging open.

The recognition on Zazzalil’s face must have shown clearly, because Jemilla visibly paled, her dark eyes widening as they met Zazzalil’s. She didn’t know what to do. Who would believe her if she tried to make the claim that the Princess was the leader of one of the most prominent, vicious gangs in the kingdom? She, a common  _ thief _ . 

They held each other’s gaze. The expression in Jemilla’s eyes was almost unreadable, but then the Princess’s head bowed forward and the shadows stretched menacingly into the dark crevices of her eyes. Fear drenched Zazzalil’s body like ice water.

“Do you know this girl, Jemilla?” The Queen spoke. They must have been staring for too long. The Princess swallowed and took a deep breath before turning to the Queen.

“I do not,” she said coolly. That voice. Zazzalil was now  _ sure _ that this was the Feather leader. She, herself, was the Flame deputy, and she had dealt with the Feathers long enough to know.

“She was caught sneaking through your room. Do you know what she could have been looking for?”

Jemilla kept an impressive amount of control, even though when she looked at Zazzalil, her gaze was fire. Furious fire.

“I do not, but perhaps if I could speak to her alone I could find out.” The Queen looked at Jemilla with what seemed to be curiosity, a look that made the Princess reply, “I figure it is about time I start conducting these on my own. And I don’t believe the presence of guards will help coax information out of her.”

“No guards?” Jemilla didn’t respond, only dipped her head slightly. The Queen shrugged. “Very well.” The guards exchanged a glance but took a few hesitant steps back, only fully leaving when the Queen turned on her heal. The door closed behind them with a full thud.

Zazzalil looked up at the Princess, watching her neutral face morph into a low glower.

“Hello, Flame.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ummmmmm gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no self control writing any and all of this chapter

Zazzalil tried to keep her cool as she cleared her throat, her shoulders rolling and hands twitching uncomfortably in their bindings. 

“Jay,” she acknowledged.

Jemilla grimaced, running a hand through her curly hair. “How long have you known?”

“A minute. Maybe a minute and a half.”

“And you were in my room looking for…?”

“Blueprints.”

Jemilla sighed, her hands clasping behind her back as she began pacing in front of Zazzalil. “We are in a tricky situation then, aren’t we?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m the only Flame who knows. I had no idea, and if anybody were to have any idea then it would probably be me.”

Jemilla paused from her pacing, turning her head sharply towards Zazzalil. The Princess was silent as she walked brusquely to the criminal, a dark, shaded look in her eyes that made Zazzalil turn her gaze downwards.

“I know you, don’t I?” Jemilla whispered. Her hand raised, fingertips pressing under Zazzalil’s chin and tilting her head up. As Zazzalil’s chandelier-lit gaze met the Princess’s, she felt her face flush. Jemilla’s breath was warm against her skin, and both of them seemed suddenly surprised for absolutely no reason.

“Do you?” Zazzalil breathed, her mind not processing the words as they spilled from her lips. 

Jemilla’s hand outstretched, the tips of her fingers tracing along Zazzalil’s jaw before finally grasping her chin. She lightly jerked her head to the side, causing Zazzalil’s breath to catch in her throat. She could feel Jemilla’s gaze burning into her skin, all curious and angry.

“I do. The one with the sharp face. All angular. Like a fox. Your shadows were so jagged against the wall.” The tone of Jemilla’s voice dropped at ‘ _ against the wall _ ’ and a cold shiver ran down Zazzalil’s spine. “You’re the Flame deputy, aren’t you?”

Zazzalil cleared her throat, her gaze trained on the wall. “You tell me. You’re the one that grabbed me and pulled me across the table.”

“I’m also the one who saved you that night.” Jemilla’s hand dropped and Zazzalil’s head turned back forward. 

“I-I remember.”

Jemilla smirked and turned away, “it would be hard to forget.” 

“Did I ever thank you?” Jemilla looked back at Zazzalil over her shoulder, grinning.

“I don’t think you did. You’re welcome.”

Zazzalil opened her mouth to speak but found no words forming on her tongue. After a moment, she exhaled shakily.

“Am I going to die here?”

Jemilla paused, then slowly turned around to face Zazzalil. There was a softness to her face that made something in Zazzalil’s chest twist with unkind achiness. She ignored it.

“Are you asking me if I’m going to allow you to tell the Queen about my… adventures and get my title revoked? Absolutely not.”

Zazzalil tensed, her jaw clenching and eyes narrowing at Jemilla. “Adventures? You are trying to start a war that I, by the way, want no part in and you’re going to call them adventures? You are the leader of a gang that has been wreaking havoc on the kingdom for ages and you are calling them  _ adventures?”  _

Jemilla sighed and rubbed her temples. “You don’t understand. What I do is very important to-”

“What we do is  _ war _ . We’re both trying to protect innocents. Protect the poor. Well, that’s what the Flame is doing.” Zazzalil ground her teeth, a sneer tugging at her lips. “Obviously, I was right when I said that the Feathers have ulterior motives. Tell me,  _ Princess _ , what exactly are you playing at?”

Jemilla whipped around, the fire back and blazing in her eyes. She crossed the room in a few long strides and was in front of Zazzalil before she could process what was happening. She stood her ground, however, and even as Jemilla stepped in so close that their noses almost brushed, Zazzalil kept her chin raised and eyes narrowed.

“You don’t understand,” Jemilla whispered, “the Feathers need to exist. I-I can’t-”

“Tell me,” Zazzalil said, her voice low and strong.

Jemilla gulped, her gaze flicking wildly around Zazzalil’s face. “If you weren’t so fucking _incompetent_ to what’s going on around you maybe you’d realize that our kingdom is on the brink of war. Actual war. Against another, infinitely more powerful country. Maybe you’d realize that the Queen is pushed further and further everyday to declare full on war, and that I’m the only one stopping that from happening.”

Zazzalil didn’t back down. Not yet. Instead, she craned her neck up further. Their noses brushed lightly, and any closer their lips would touch. Zazzalil’s gaze flicked from Jemilla’s eyes to her lips rapidly. She smelled like smoke.

“And how, exactly, are you making that happen?”

“Our infighting is keeping the Queen distracted and focused on the kingdom itself. Infighting first, then external problems. And you’re not really in a position to make demands and ask questions.”

Zazzalil tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. She and Jemilla matched each other’s gazes evenly, both lit with anger and something else. Something darker. Something raw. Something that made Zazzalil’s heart throb against her rib cage and her skin burn red.

“Then untie me, and see what happens.”

The anger scorching Jemilla’s gaze dulled, and she smirked. “I don’t think I will.”

“No?”

Much to Zazzalil’s disappointment, Jemilla stepped back and turned around, clearing her throat. “No. Why would I that when you look so darling all… helpless.”

Zazzalil blinked in surprise. Her face felt hot. “I’m not helpless.”

“Yes. Obviously not.”

She wasn’t, really. The moment the guards had left, Zazzalil had worked her way out of the rope binds with a few flicks of her wrists. She smiled, and Jemilla narrowed her eyes. That was the grin of somebody who knew something that she did not.

Zazzalil closed the distance between her and Jemilla once again, enjoying the suspicious surprise written across her face. 

“How is it that you’ve remembered my face,” Zazzalil murmured. The Princess watched her with a tilted head. “Shouldn’t I just be another girl with a sharp tongue and a sharp face? It’s a wonder, truly, that I’ve managed to retain some prominence in your mind.” 

They were close. Very close. The anger had near dissipated, and was replaced by a cautious sort of warmth. They both knew something dangerous was about to happen, was happening, but instead they waited to see if the other would stop it.

Zazzalil tilted her head slightly to the side. Any closer and their lips would touch. Jemilla’s breath was delightfully ragged, her pupils blown to black. Her lips parted slightly, whether in anticipation or an effort to form words Zazzalil did not know and did not care.

The Princess did not respond. She was completely and totally entranced, watching Zazzalil’s every move. She watched as Zazzalil’s eyes fluttered shut and listened as she whispered:

“Could it be…”

Zazzalil’s mouth opened and she flinched forward. Jemilla’s breath caught in her throat as the criminal’s teeth closed softly over her bottom lip and then pulled back slowly. 

Zazzalil smirked, and then, before Jemilla could regain her composure, she shot behind the Princess and in record time had her wrists locked behind her back and a knife to her throat.

“What the-”

“Sorry, Your Highness,” Zazzalil purred in Jemilla’s ear, her breath hot against the Princess’s skin, “for your sake, I’ve taken on the responsibility of giving you a reason to let me walk free without making excuses for the Queen.”

Jemilla jerked slightly, but Zazzalil’s grip was firm.

“That wouldn’t happen to be  _ my _ knife you have to my throat would it?” Jemilla asked, her voice strained and her chin craning up.

Zazzalil pressed small kiss into the crook between Jemilla’s neck and shoulder, causing the Princess to freeze. “You gave it to me that night, and what else do I have to remind me of you?” Jemilla’s breath caught in her throat and Zazzalil drew her lips up along her neck, “here’s what is going to happen. Nobody will know your secret. My lips will be sealed, except, of course, for you.” At this, Zazzalil nipped the Princess’s earlobe, causing her to shudder and bite her lip. Zazzalil smirked and continued.

“We’ll discuss this war and this discussion later, and see what we can do without getting people killed in the crossfire. I’ll be back at the next full moon. I expect you to be waiting.”

Jemilla’s jaw clenched, though she couldn’t hide the way she melted against Zazzalil. “I’ll be waiting,” she whispered. 

The began to knife fall, and the moment it did, Jemilla spun around, twisting her hand out of Zazzalil’s grasp and catching the Flame by both her wrists. Zazzalil’s eyes widened, and she looked up at Jemilla with a look that seemed to hold a certain degree of alarm and amusement.

“Don’t think for one second this means anything, Flame,” Jemilla whispered. Zazzalil’s smirk widened into a grin. Much to the Princess’s surprise, she lifted herself onto the balls of her feet and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips.

It was brief, but when Zazzalil pulled back, Jemilla found herself keening forward, her eyes widened in shock. 

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.” Zazzalil whispered before pulling herself gently from Jemilla’s grasp and making her way to the window. The Princess smiled softly, and, as before she leapt out of the window, Zazzalil grinned back.

She melted into the night sky, leaving Jemilla standing in an empty throne room with wide eyes, her skin glowing in the dim, milky mixture of chandelier and moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harrumph fun times what a ride wow owo


	3. Midnight Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets smutty.
> 
> Slight Ducker bashing if you squint at it. I'm not ashamed, Ducker can go jump off a microwave.
> 
> Jemilla turned back to face Zazzalil. The princess was wearing a much simpler outfit than she had been last time they met, likely because these were in her private chambers. Nobody was going to see them here; that thought sent an unwelcome shiver down Zazzalil’s spine and her stomach fluttered dangerously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, Kit here. This is chapter 3 of lilfinch's story Flame and Feathers, I had no part in the previous 2 chapters. She wanted to take the story towards a more smutty path but since she claims she isn't good at writing smut I reached out and now I'm writing this chapter. She is such a talented author and I'm so happy that she let me write this for her story. This is my first time posting something on this site so please be nice.

As promised, the Flame deputy came, and, as she said she would be, Jemilla was waiting. At the next full moon, Zazzalil scaled the castle wall up to Jemilla’s bedroom window, remembering the path she had taken to get in last time. Though this time, there was no need to pick the lock.

Jemilla was sitting on her bed and appeared to be reading a book. A small tap on the glass alerted the Feather and she shut her book and swiftly walked over to the window, pulling it open. And Zazzalil, hanging skillfully by her fingers from the ledge, her eyes just barely visible peeking up at the princess, couldn’t fight the smile that spread across her face at the sight of her. Zazzalil pulled herself up and noted that Jemilla’s cheeks were flushed. She had torn her eyes away from the deputy’s biceps, which flexed as she rose onto the window ledge. Her skirt rode up as she brought her legs up onto the ledge and then again as she slid forward, Jemilla turned away, her cheeks ablaze. Zazzalil carefully lowered herself into the princess’s room and shut the window behind her.

Jemilla turned back to face her. She was wearing a much simpler outfit than she had been last time they met, likely because these were in her private chambers. Nobody was going to see them here; that thought sent an unwelcome shiver down Zazzalil’s spine and her stomach fluttered dangerously. Jemilla had donned plain, knee-length leather pants and a matching colored top with decorative beading and off-shoulder sleeves. And _oh_, it was _short_. The top in question stopped mid-ribcage and exposed the princess’s beautifully toned stomach. _Eyes up shithead_! Though that wasn’t much better. Jemilla wore a pair of dangling feather earrings, attached to her ears by blue beads. Her mocha-colored hair fell in a curtain of pretty curls all around her face, stopping just under her chin. The candles in the room brought out the tiny golden streaks dispersed throughout her hair in a really flattering way. _Oh fuck_, _she's pretty_, Zazzalil thought, before snapping herself out of that state of mind. She was only here to talk diplomacy, Jemilla wanted this war to end just as much as she did. That was the only reason they were having this late-night meeting. _The only reason_.

“Your Majesty.”

Zazzalil gave a flourished bow. Her thin lips curling into a smirk that was mischievous and borderline mocking. Jemilla’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink. The princess bent her head to return the greeting, breaking eye contact only momentarily. Speaking of eyes, Jay’s were very pretty. Golden brown, like honey. The candlelight in the room danced across her tanned skin, her eyes almost looked like they were glowing; like tiny embers had been encased in her irises. _What is wrong with you_!? the deputy thought _you need to get this fucking meeting over and done with before you get caught_!

“Hello, Flame.”

“Please,” she cut in, “call me Zazzalil.”

Jemilla nodded curtly, and Zazzalil could just barely see her lips twitch in a not-quite smile. The Flame deputy was pleased by the effect her presence was having on the princess.

The Feather leader showed Zazzalil to a small table in the room that she seemed to have cleared for them to use. Ever a courteous host, Jemilla pulled out the deputy’s chair for her, and it was Zazzalil’s turn to blush.

She undid her ruana and set it on the back of the chair before sitting. She had pulled her hair into a high ponytail, slightly skewed to one side. Her hair had always been untameable, frizzy, and curly, it got tangled easily. Jemilla would be able to see the signature Flame tattoo on the back of her neck. It didn’t matter now, Jemilla already knew she was a member of the Flame, the tattoo just confirmed it. Jemilla leaned closer to her as she pushed the chair in and Zazzalil’s breath hitched at the feeling of the Feather’s warm breath on the back of her neck. Zazzalil prayed she hadn’t heard it, Jemilla’s face gave nothing away, but the sparkle in her eyes told Zazzalil all she needed to know that she had.

_Fuck_.

This was gonna be a long night.

Jemilla took her seat opposite the deputy and began, “So, what’s your plan?”

Zazzalil startled, _the fuck_!?, she hadn’t expected to be asked for a plan, she didn’t really have one. The deputy shook her head, “First, I need more information.”

Jemilla’s eyes narrowed, “What _kind_ of information?”

Zazzalil rolled her eyes, “You mentioned that our kingdom is on the brink of war with a neighboring country. You say that you started the Feathers to compete with the Flames and stir up trouble so the queen has to focus on in-fighting and not declare war.”

Jemilla nodded, “And you want to end the gang war before it can start?”

Zazzalil affirmed, “But you’re saying we need the war.”

“We do. I understand that it sounds backward but we need some way to keep the queen focused on problems in the kingdom or she’ll declare war on our neighboring country. I don’t want the war to happen for the sake of settling gang rivalry through bloodshed. I want the war so Molag has something else to focus on.”

“But people could be hurt! Who am I kidding? People will be hurt, or killed! Is it really worth it for people to lose their lives for the sake of being a fucking distraction?”

Jemilla shook her head, “Again I know it sounds wrong, but we have to do something or things could go south, quick.”

“Things already are going south. There's war either way, whether it be the whole fucking kingdom or just the gangs. There has to be another way, we can’t just let this happen.”

Jemilla pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you didn’t want the war this badly, why didn’t you object to it at the war council?”

Zazzalil winced, “Because, it wasn’t my call to make, it was Ducker’s.”

She shivered at the mention of the gang leader. “What Ducker wants, Ducker gets. If he wants territory, we get territory, if he wants war, there will be war. _Nobody_ disagrees with Ducker without _really_ shitty consequences. Even I know better than to go against him.”

Jemilla looked thoughtful for a moment, her brow creasing in concentration. Zazzalil grew worried, she didn’t want to admit it, but she was scared. She didn’t want the gangs to go into an all-out war, but it wasn’t her place to call it off. She couldn’t ask Ducker, she would be kicked out of the Flame, possibly killed, and the gang was her _family_. She loved the other members of the Flame as though they were her kin, she couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave them. Jemilla was her only option, her only hope. Zazzalil prayed she would see reason, and find a way to prevent any more blood from spilling.

Jemilla sighed, “There has to be something we can do. I can’t promise that I can prevent the war, but I can promise that I will try.”

Zazzalil’s face broke into a grin, and without thinking, she grabbed the front of Jemilla’s shirt and pulled her up, leaning across the table to close the gap between them.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds before Zazzall regained sense. The deputy pulled back quickly, "Shit! I'm sorry, I just got carried away! Next thing I knew, my lips were getting way ahead of me and-"

Jemilla cut the shorter girl off with an eye roll and another kiss. Zazzalil squeaked in surprise but eagerly reciprocated. The kiss turned more tender as the princess reached a hand up to cup the criminal’s jaw. Zazzalil knew her cheeks were on fire and could only hope that Jemilla’s were the same. The thief wound her fingers into the princess’s hair, tugging on the soft curls gently.

The two parted minutes later, gasping for breath, and stared for a moment. Jemilla’s whole face was flushed, her lips bruised from the kiss. The princess’s once neat curls were now slightly disheveled thanks to Zazz running her hands through them.

_Shit_. She looked gorgeous.

Jemilla rounded the table to stand in front of Zazzalil, cupping her face in her hands and pulling her forward for another searing kiss. Zazzalil practically turned to putty in the Feather’s hands, letting out a breathy sigh as the princess bit her lower lip and tugged gently. Zazzalil’s arms wound around her neck, one hand making its way into Jemilla’s hair again and the other sliding down her back. Zazzalil hooked her foot around the back of Jemilla’s calf and began sliding it up. Jemilla grabbed the back of the Flame’s thigh, hooking her leg around her waist. Zazzalil groaned into the kiss and hopped up, wrapping her other leg around the princess so that she was supporting her weight completely. Jemilla stumbled slightly at the added weight and stepped forward to set Zazzalil down on the table, stepping between her spread legs. Through the passionate kiss, Jemilla’s hands had begun to wander, traveling over her hips and further down. Zazzalil, unopposed, allowed her hands to slide down to the Feather’s lower back, her fingers dancing over the exposed skin. Jemilla broke the kiss, trailing her lips over Zazzalil’s jaw and then down, stopping to nibble at her ear lobe. Zazzalil let out a shaky breath at the feeling, not even ashamed of the bright blush that was steadily covering her whole face from the tips of her ears down her neck. Jemilla left small nips and kisses as she went, nothing that would leave noticeable marks later. Zazzalil purred at the feeling, ghosting her fingers at the waistband of Jemilla’s pants.

If Zazzalil whined when Jemilla pulled away, that was her business and nobody else’s. The Flame gave the princess a questioning look to which Jemilla just smiled. She offered her hand and Zazzalil took it willingly, Amber eyes remaining locked on honey brown. The princess led Zazzalil toward her bed. Zazzalil felt her heart pick up in pace; as if it hadn’t already been pounding in her ears since the moment they locked lips.

As they neared the bed, Zazzalil couldn’t help herself and pushed forward to capture Jemilla’s lips once more. They continued moving backward and Jemilla’s legs hit the edge of the mattress. The Feather allowed herself to fall back and took the Flame with her. The two giggled quietly as the criminal landed on top of the princess and they each took a moment to savor the other.

Up-close, Jemilla truly was beautiful. She had an almost ethereal quality to her, regal and soft. She had a sweet face with smooth, round cheeks. Her eyes were bright and almond-shaped, that beautiful brown that reminded Zazzalil of the sweet honey she had been able to steal from the market in the slums on occasion. The deputy rested her chin on the leader’s chest, earning a tender smile from Jemilla. They just drank each other in, taking a moment in between all the war discussions and heated make-outs to just be; allowing themselves a moment to exist in the same little bubble together.

Jemilla leaned forward to press a feather-light peck to the tip of Zazzalil’s nose, and the girl went cross-eyed. It made Jemilla laugh and Zazzalil felt all the air leave her lungs. Her laugh was incredible. It was a deep rumble in her chest and passed her lips in almost melodious tones. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and for a moment, she looks so much younger. All the stress of the impending wars and also being a princess had lined her face, but now, with Zazzalil, she seems at peace. It was a welcome sight.

Zazzalil takes charge and surges up to kiss the princess, placing a hand on either side of her for balance. Jemilla turned the tables on her and flipped them so Zazzalil now lay pinned beneath her. Jemilla braced herself on her hands, hovering over the criminal. The Feather leader leaned down, beginning to kiss over the skin of the Flame deputy’s neck. Jemilla sucked a purple mark over her pulse point and another right behind her ear, a particularly sensitive spot for Zazzalil, who’s eyes fluttered shut as a breathy moan broke past her lips. Jemilla smirked at the reaction, continuing her ministrations on the smaller girl’s skin. She paid special attention to the deputy’s sharp collar bones, sucking plenty of little marks across them.

The whole time this was going on, Zazzlil had been slowly running a hand up the princess’s leg, wishing that the pants would just disappear. She tugged gently at the waistband, trying to send a message to hurry it along but not wanting to seem demanding. They would have to be careful about this, there was the ever-looming possibility of someone walking by the door and hearing them, which would only end badly.

Jemilla seemed to take the hint and sat up. Zazzalil squirmed out from under her, removing the simple dress she had been wearing with only minimal difficulty. When she no longer had the fabric in her face, she watched as Jemilla first shed her top, and then her bottoms. The girls were left in just their undergarments, and Zazzalil had to remind herself to breathe. Jemilla was much taller than her, she had known that, but the princess’s legs were absolutely incredible; long and lean, well-toned, and very tan like the rest of her.

Zazzalil was willing to admit that she didn’t look too bad herself. Carmel skin splattered with freckles that had been earned through long hours spent in the sun every day. Her features were sharp, with angular cheekbones, a small nose, thin lips, and wide amber-brown eyes. She had a small body, not very curvy, but fairly muscular. She was especially proud of her arms, which were toned and quite impressive. At only five foot on the dot, Zazzalil was by no means tall, in fact, she was one of the shortest people in the Flame.

Jemilla turned around to place their clothes on the trunk at the end of her bed. As she bent over, her hair fell out of the way and Zazzalil caught sight of the blue and white feather tattoo on the back of her neck. She had never actually seen the tattoo before, only knew that Feathers had them. She had to admit that it was quite pretty, much more delicate and detailed than her own simple flame tattoo. She didn’t ponder on it for long as Jemilla turned back and crawled up the bed to sit right in front of her.

Zazzalil smiled and leaned forward, catching a quick kiss before trailing down the Feather’s neck. She wished she could return the favor of marking up her neck, but instead reserved her bites for the area below Jemilla’s collar bones and above her cleavage. It was a spot that would be covered well by any typical top and any that weren’t covered could be hidden with makeup, which she knew the princess had.

Jemilla hummed in appreciation at the attention, her breath hitching occasionally, as she let Zazzalil take control for a bit. She was eager, and it was unclear whether she had ever done this before. The girl was confident, sultry even. Jemilla would be hard-put to deny that the deputy was gorgeous, with her fox-like features. The shadows cast by the dim light made her face look even sharper, it was alluring in a mysterious sort of way. It made her look like some sort of mythical creature.

Zazzalil laid a hand flat against Jemilla’s stomach and began pushing gently, the princess laid back willingly, giving the Flame enough room to kiss down her stomach. Zazzalil gave a cheeky smirk as she neared Jemilla's pelvis, trailing her fingers feather-light over the jutting bones. Jemilla squirmed at the touch and Zazzalil took the opportunity to move farther down, right past where Jemilla needed her most, instead nipping and kissing the insides of her tan thighs. Zazzalil happily left plenty of little lovebites and marks for her princess to find in the morning. Her caresses were soft and gentle, she wanted Jemilla to enjoy this and savor it, as it was unlikely something like this would ever happen again. _It wasn't supposed to happen in the first place_.

The Feather was beginning to get impatient and decided to take matters into her own hands. She sat up swiftly and made quick work of removing her bra, reaching out and undoing Zazzalil's as the deputy sat up. Zazzalil brushed the princess's hands away and removed the garment herself, tossing it carelessly towards the end of the bed, turning back quickly to admire her paramour's chest.

Jemilla was curvy, not overly so, but definitely more than Zazzalil. She was beautiful, and it was unfair that this girl had such an even tan, like, _how_!? Whatever the case, Zazzalil was a little unprepared for the sight of Jemilla, the princess, the leader of the Feathers, the girl who, by all accounts, should've been her enemy sitting in front of her on a bed, _Jemilla's bed_, topless and clearly checking her out.

_There wasn't much else Zazzalil could want_.

Jemilla reached a hand up, looking at Zazzalil for any indication she should stop. Zazzalil merely gave her a hooded gaze, a sultry smile. Jemilla grabbed hold of the smaller girl's breast, Zazzalil let out a shaky breath.

Jemilla was gentle, never rough with her. It was almost painful, how slow she moved. But Zazzalil was somewhat thankful; she was new to this and having Jemilla as your first partner was a nerve-wracking experience. Princesses were notoriously hard to please, but the deputy seemed to be doing alright for the time being.

The princess rolled a nipple between her fingers, feeling it harden as the other pebbled under her palm. Zazzalil's breath hitched. Jemilla bent her head forward, continuing to fondle one breast, and taking the opposite nipple between her lips. Zazzalil let out a strangled whine, clapping a hand over her mouth in surprise. Jemilla looked up behind her lashes and smirked, pleased to be having some effect on the usually snarky criminal. She grazed over the sensitive bud with her teeth, biting down lightly. This time, Zazzalil couldn't hold back the moan that made its way up her throat.

Jemilla moved lower, peppering kisses over Zazzalil's ribs and stomach, practically worshipping her skin. She dipped her tongue briefly into Zazzalil's navel, making the Flame giggle. The princess trails lower still, bypassing where her paramour needs her most for the time being. Choosing instead to repay the Flame's earlier teasing by pepper kisses to the girl's inner thighs and leaving little nips in her wake.

Zazzalil squirmed, holding back a whine, not wanting to appear so desperate so early on. Jemilla traveled higher, her warm breath grazing over Zazzalil's clearly slick folds. The princess leaned forward, pink tongue poking out between pretty pink lips, and licked. Slowly, an almost torturous pace for the ever impatient Zazzalil, the Feather dragged her tongue over her swollen clit. The Flame's head falls back on the feathery pillows, mouth open, back arching. For a moment it seems like she's lost the ability to make sound, her breath leaving her almost silently. Jemilla savors the heat radiating from her partner's center, dipping her tongue in and tasting her. The princess caresses the deputy's skin almost reverently, pressing little kisses around her core, licking and sucking everywhere but the one sensitive spot where Zazzalil needs it most.

Zazzalil is slowly coming apart, letting out little whines and whimpers that get breathier the longer Jemilla works. When the Feather adds her fingers to the equation the Flame jumps up and octave, her hips bucking involuntarily. First one finger, then two, Jemilla works her open, the job almost too easy given how wet the deputy is. Once she gets in a third finger, Jemilla goes searching for that little button, the stiff pearl between her folds that she knows will drive the smaller girl wild. Using her thumb at first, adding light pressure, Jemilla rubs small circles, and the difference is immediate. Zazzalil's pitch and volume rise, and her eyes roll back, lids fluttering shut. Faster and faster, Jemilla works, fingers and tongue and _teeth_. As Zazzalil's legs begin to shake, her cries spiking, walls clenching, Jemilla finds that pearl again. Her lips latch on and all she has to do is suck and its all over. With a few good pumps of her fingers, Zazzalil tips over the edge.

And _god_, does it feel good.

The tight coil in her belly that had been steadily growing tighter finally snaps. Warmth spreads from her stomach outwards, to the tips of her fingers and down into her toes, and Zazzalil sees stars. One hand fisted in the sheets, the other tangled in her partner's curls, her thighs tremble, clenched around the princess's head as she rides out the aftershocks. With a satisfied sigh, Zazzalil's body goes slack and the thief falls back onto the bed, brown curls fanning out on the pillow. It catches the candlelight and almost looks like a halo.

Jemilla pushes up, pressing one final kiss to that sacred place between the Flame's thighs and wipes her mouth with a smirk. When a foggy-minded Zazzalil meets her eyes, the princess looks _proud_, and she should be. The criminal manages a breathy giggle, reaching her toned arms out to pull her newfound paramour close. Jemilla lays her head on the pillow next to Zazzalil's, arms around her as the two share soft, tender kisses. These kisses lack the previous fire, but they are no less passionate.

"You okay there Zaz?" The Feather asks, a teasing smile on her lips.

Zazzalil barely has the strength to nod, "Yeah. I don't think I've ever been better Jay."

Jemilla chuckles, her cheeks going slightly pink. It is only now, after some of the fog has cleared, that she realizes how aroused she is. Pleasing Zazzalil, being the one to not only get her to that wonderful edge but to push her over that line into the realm of mind-numbing pleasure had gotten her more worked up than she was keen to admit. The princess tried to squeeze her thighs and hopefully get some friction to ease the ache without Zazzalil noticing, but she had learned quickly that the fox-like girl was sometimes too perceptive for her own good.

Zazzalil flashed the Feather a sly smirk, "Need some help there babe?"

Jemilla shook her head, her curls bouncing. "Maybe some other time, babe, but you should probably go. You need to be back by dawn and if we go any longer we may get caught."

Jemilla gives a coy smile, her voice dropping lower and becoming almost hoarse, "Plus, I don't know if I'd be able to keep myself quiet."

It has the desired effect. Zazzalil's cheeks flush, pupils blown wide. The deputy licks her lips before crashing them onto Jemilla's, fire rekindled. Jemilla indulges her for a moment, allowing her tongue entrance with minimal resistance, but when the Flame's fingers travel between her legs Jemilla grabs her wrist to stop her.

"Please," Zazzalil almost begs, "I can make it quick."

The last part is said with a smirk, and Jemilla curses the involuntary shiver that runs down her spine at the unspoken promise of those words.

_I'll make it good_.

And she does. Not even ten minutes later, Jemilla is riding that wonderful high, spots dancing across her vision, her face flushed all the way down her neck. Zazzalil didn't even need her mouth. The lovers lay facing each other, as they had when they started, Zazzalil smirking, proud. Jemilla has to admit that she made good on her promise, it was fast. And boy, was it good. But now they must part ways before someone comes across them and Zazzalil gets caught.

The pair begrudgingly redress, taking as much time as they can to memorize every curve and imperfection they can. Who knows when they'll get to do this again? Jemilla walks Zazzalil to the window and adjusts her hair a bit, tucking a few flyaway curls behind her slightly pointed ear. The Flame leans into the touch, a lazy smile spreading on her face. The two share a final, tender kiss, plus a few small pecks, before Zazzalil hoists her self onto the sill, slides out the window, and disappears into the night.

Jemilla watches her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a massive thank you to lilfinch for letting this happen. I cannot stress enough how grateful I am for this opportunity. Please leave kudos and get this story the recognition it deserves.


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